


Business, Pleasure, School and Leisure

by scribe-tuesday (Leofuller)



Series: Back Up There [19]
Category: Original Work, Sports Fiction (not RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leofuller/pseuds/scribe-tuesday
Summary: Dr Hart is very, very good at his specialist subject. Nobody's ever seen any evidence that he's any good at anything else.





	1. Michaelmas semester (2018)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McSpot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSpot/gifts).



> This sits within the Back Up There universe, but there's no overlap between this and any of the other stories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter was originally posted on Tumblr - so consider this a teaser for the main story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for McSpot, who encourages me to discuss ideas for new stories whenever my WIP list dips down to an almost-manageable level.

The first sign that there’s anything out of the ordinary going on is when Chip is standing at the lectern for Monday afternoon’s _Norse Seafaring_ lecture - and they start on time without waiting for Dr Hart to appear.

Chip’s not actually his name, but Dr Hart has a tendency to give his doctoral research students nicknames and then stick with them regardless of how they feel about it. If somebody referred to Chip by his real name Dr Hart probably wouldn’t have a clue who they were talking about.

It’s not unusual for Chip or one of the other research students to handle the first part of a lecture - attendance, setup and so on. Dr Hart’s timekeeping is inconsistent at best, he’s just as likely to wander into the middle of the class taking place prior to his lecture as he is to amble in to his own class ten minutes late. His watches tend to last an average of three weeks before they break, and during the week after the clocks change for daylight savings it’s hit and miss whether he’ll show up at all. One of the research students will be there at the start of every lecture to make sure that the projector is working, the correct presentation is ready to go (Dr Hart allegedly once got so far through a compilation of his holiday photographs that he gave the class a test on them and counted the marks towards their final grade) and that there are no marker pens left anywhere where Dr Hart might find them and use them to write on the projector screen - but it’s definitely unusual when Chip actually starts to deliver the lecture.

Nobody interrupts - nobody signs up for Dr Hart’s classes unless they’re genuinely interested in Viking nautical culture, these are not entry level courses - and of course Chip knows the subject matter well. Dr Hart’s research places are surprising well fought-over considering that Dr Hart himself is so…

 

Well.

 

The student body knows a number of things about Dr Hart. He’s been here forever, came as an undergraduate and just never left. His office is on the second floor of the Humanities building, totally surrounded by the Literature and Drama faculties because he’s resisted any attempts to move him up to the fourth floor with the rest of the History department. He’s mild mannered, never loses his temper, but is completely immovable on coursework deadlines unless somebody has a _really_ good reason.

Other than that he’s pretty bland. He has a perfect average score on the student website. Even his own research students have been known to walk right past him in the cafeteria because they just didn’t notice him.

There are rumours, of course, but they’re all so ridiculous that everybody knows they’re not true.

For example: the English Lit undergrad who claimed she happened to look in through his open office door on her way to talk to her 19th Century Poetry professor about an essay, on a day when it was pouring with rain, and happened to notice Dr Hart changing his shirt, and even if that bit was true the part where he’s got a six pack is clearly a later embellishment. Likewise, there was that guy who swore blind that he’d seen Dr Hart on TV during the last Winter Olympics when everybody knew that he was off sick with the flu or something. Then there’s the person who insists that they saw his driving license once and he’s actually only in his mid thirties despite the number of cardigans he owns.

Obviously none of that is true.

 

Chip finishes the lecture in 35 minutes rather than Dr Hart’s customary 45-50, because there are no technical hitches in the middle and Chip doesn’t go off on tangents about timber quality. He answers three relevant questions about navigation techniques before somebody dares to ask:

“Where’s Dr Hart today? Is he okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Chip pulls his lecture notes together. “He’s fine. But they didn’t let him out of hospital until like two this morning, so he’s taking the day off.” Chip says all this as if he’s under the assumption that they all knew that Dr Hart had been in hospital, and why. “Any other questions about the material?”

 

Dr Hart isn’t really interesting enough for anybody to talk about him outside lectures. Maybe if it had been a morning lecture and a number of students had been killing time in the cafeteria before their next classes, they might have speculated about why he’d been in hospital, but since it was an afternoon class nobody sticks around on campus unless they’ve got another class or they’re using the library, so there aren’t enough people to generate any decent gossip.

 

Tuesday morning is a completely different story. _Maritime Mythology_ lets out at eleven, and pretty much the entire class decamps to the cafeteria to discuss something even more interesting than _Hafgufa._

“Did you see his _face_?”

“Looks like he’s been in a fight or something!”

“What on earth do you think happened?”

Dr Hart had, of course, made no reference at all to the bruising on the side of his face, to the black eye or the split lip, because they weren’t relevant at all to his lecture. He’d brushed off a cautious enquiry into his health with the cheerful confirmation that he’s absolutely fine, thanks, and nobody had known how to bring it up again.

Those of the students who were also taking _Norse Seafaring_ were happy to fill in the missing details for the people who were taking _Maritime Mythology_ to support a pre-modern literature degree rather than one of the Viking centred courses.

“Chip said Dr Hart was rushed into hospital over the weekend.”

“They only let him out yesterday.”

“I heard that he discharged himself against medical advice.”

“Do you think he got _mugged_ or something?”

That earns a snort of laughter. “Can you imagine, though? Beating up some guy and stealing his stuff only to find it’s just pages of notes on timber measurements for a _langskip_?”

“I bet that’s the only thing that would provoke Dr Hart into a fight. If you tried to take his research!”

By the time they disperse to their twelve o’clock lectures, to the library or to lunch, the tale of Dr Hart’s mugging has been satisfactorily embellished and the discussion has brought the Literature and Viking Studies students closer together, which will coincidentally be very useful during the group project work for next semester’s _Fornaldarsögur_ unit.


	2. Holly

Holly wipes her palms on her jeans and tries to get her breathing back to normal. The stairs up to the fourth floor aren’t usually a problem, but she’s still getting over this chest infection and her lung capacity isn't what it should be. She doesn’t really want to show up to office hours sweaty-palmed and panting, but she also doesn’t want to be caught hanging around in the hallway trying and failing to look normal, so it is what it is.

She takes a couple more steadying breaths and knocks on 413.

“It’s open!”

That’s Chip. It’s good that it’s Chip. Holly doesn’t fall over her own words when she’s talking to Chip about coursework or additional source materials.

Holly pushes open the door and edges in. It’s usually safer to assume that the floor space will not be the same as it was last time, as the piles of books seem to move every time she comes up here.

“Oh, hey, Holly.” Chip’s sitting on his desk with his feet on the chair. “Come on in. I found that book you wanted to-” He starts checking through the stack of books on his desk, walking his fingers down the spines. “I swear I had it…”

“Fight it, Chip, fight it!” Tamsin’s half-swallowed by the ancient couch, and she’s wearing a shirt that’s a very similar fabric to the cushions so Holly actually hadn’t seen her for a second. “Don’t let the madness get you!”

It’s a running joke between Dr Hart’s research students that his air of confusion and absent-minded ways are contagious, and that anybody who works with him for too long runs the risk of becoming just like him.

Chip frowns at her. “Did you move it?”

Tamsin holds her hands up. “I didn’t touch anything on your desk.” Moving her hands causes the stack of papers on her lap to start to slide, and she lurches to catch them.

“Well, it’s here somewhere.” Chip slides down from the desk and looks through the same stack of books from a standing position, in case that might help.

Tamsin grins at Holly, which always makes Holly feel kind of awkward, like a kid trying to hang out with adults. “How’s the dissertation going?”

“Okay, I think.” Holly nods slowly. “I’ve hit a big of a snag around some of the astronomy charts, but Chip…”

“Has, somewhere, got a really helpful book.” Chip contributes, opening and closing all of the drawers of his desk one after the other without touching any of the contents. “Ah!”

The last comment is in response to the door opening to admit Wall-E and Arwen.

“Wall-E, have you moved my book?”

Wall-E looks around at the books stacked on almost every surface. “Your book.”

“Mmm.”

Arwen ignores them all, dragging a cushion onto the bottom shelf of the built in bookcase, one of the few surfaces which is entirely free of books, and settling in for a nap.

“Which book?”

 

Holly had got up the courage, during the final year of her Bachelor’s degree, to ask where Wall-E’s nickname came from.

“Apparently I remind Dr Hart of a guy he used to know whose nickname was Wall-E.”

“And why was _his_ nickname Wall-E?”

Wall-E had shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

 

“The one I want to lend to Holly.”

Wall-E takes a moment to check that Arwen’s water bowl is full. “The astronomy one?”

“Yeah.”

“You had it yesterday, you were putting post-it notes in.”

“Yes!”

“Try your laptop bag.”

Wall-E moves a pile of textile samples off his chair onto his desk. Holly drifts over towards the bookshelves to see if Arwen will say hi. Wall-E’s probably not supposed to bring his dog onto campus every day, but he’s adamant that there’s nothing in any of the rule books to say that he can’t, and nobody’s ever made much of an effort to stop him. Arwen’s eleven, which is fairly old for a Welsh Terrier, and she’s not exactly running around causing mayhem. She’s also great for a cuddle when you’re panicking about your dissertation.

“Got it!” Chip holds the book over his head in triumph. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Wall-E,” Wall-E says without looking up from his textile samples. “I’d have been hunting for that for hours without your help. Oh, that’s no problem, Chip, glad I could be of assistance.”

“Extra shot americano?” Chip passes the book to Holly, looking over at Wall-E’s desk, and Wall-E sticks his thumb up in response. Chip pats his pockets, checks his laptop bag and then retrieves his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket which is hanging on the back of his chair. “Tamsin, usual?”

“Ta.”

“Holly, are you sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh…” She doesn’t have a class until four, and she’d just been planning to settle in the library until then.

“You’re welcome to hang out here if you want to. Pick our brains if you need to.” Chip’s research is closest to Holly’s area of study, and he’s sort of appointed himself as a surrogate older brother since she first knocked on their office door on the verge of tears over her undergraduate dissertation.

“Chip’s not using his brain, so you can have as much of that as you need.” Wall-E adds. Chip just rolls his eyes.

“You should stay, stop me being outnumbered.” Tamsin starts to move some of the accumulated folders and items of clothing which are littering the couch.

“Arwen’s a girl.” Wall-E points out.

“Arwen’s asleep, and also she always takes your side when we argue about Icelandic translation. Anyway, Holly, if you’re still planning on applying to work with Dr Hart on your PhD you need to start building up some immunity to the crazy. Hey, that’s where my scarf went!”

“Okay.” Holly wills herself not to blush at the thought of sitting next to Tamsin. Tamsin grins at her as she holds up the scarf.

Chip pats his pockets again, to make sure that his wallet hasn’t vanished over the course of the conversation. “So, one extra-shot americano, one skinny chai latte, and a…?” He waits for Holly.

“Just an ordinary latte, please?”

“Nope. You have to change something about it, you can’t have an ordinary one.”

“Uh…”

“Just ignore him.” Tamsin finds a stress ball buried in the couch cushions and throws it at Chip. It bounces off his shoulder and rolls under a desk, ignored by Arwen. “Go. Fetch coffee.”

Chip salutes and leaves the room. Holly clutches the book to her chest and questions her life choices for the third time this week.

 

**

“You can leave those here, if you want to.”

Holly looks up from where she’s trying to find the best way to fit seven textbooks into her backpack.

“Unless you need them overnight.” Wall-E continues, attention still mostly on the simulation that’s running on the screen in front of him. “Otherwise they’ll be here when you come back in the morning.”

“Um.”

“You don’t have a class until eleven tomorrow.” Wall-E almost never phrases anything as a question. “So you might as well carry on with your research here. It’s safe, we lock the door, and nobody other than us can find anything in here anyway.”

“I mean, you know you’re welcome here any time.” Tamsin chips in, and Holly almost drops the book in her hand. “Obviously you know that, you’re here all the time.”

 _All the time_ is a bit of an exaggeration. Holly only comes up during their office hours, and sometimes she stays on afterwards. It’s easier to study at a desk in here than it is on the couch at home with her housemates coming and going. She’s only been here three days this week, and it’s Thursday, so…

Huh.

“And it’s not like Tamsin uses that desk.” Wall-E leans back in his seat. “She has a symbiotic relationship with that sofa, I’m worried that it would collapse if she didn’t sit on it for at least three hours a day.

“Hey!”

It’s true that Holly has never seen Tamsin sit anywhere else. She knows that Tamsin does leave the couch, because she teaches some of the undergraduate courses and Holly’s also seen her in the cafeteria, but whenever she’s in this office Tamsin’s always been established at that end of the couch.

“Your shirt matches the couch.” Wall-E points out, and Holly realises that he’s right. That’s not even the same shirt that Tamsin was wearing last time she matched the cushions.

“Huh.” Tamsin compares her sleeve to the arm of the couch, and then grins at them. “Cool.”

There’s a thumping sound from the corridor. Arwen lifts her head, and then sighs. Holly’s already out of her seat, because - supporting Tamsin’s suggestion that she’s here all the time - she recognises the sound of Chip trying to get in with his hands full. He tends to just walk into the door over and over, like a six foot tall fly trying to get through a pane of glass, until somebody opens it for him.

“Thanks.” Chip ambles in with a pile of essays in one arm and a tray of coffees in the other hand. The essays land on his desk, and he distributes the coffees.

“Extra shot americano.” Wall-E’s desk. “Chai latte, extra hot.” There’s a stack of books next to Tamsin’s end of the couch which is the perfect height to serve as a side table and also coincidentally the only stack of books which is still in the same place as Holly first saw it. “Sugar-free vanilla latte.” That goes on Holly’s desk.

Holly’s desk. Where Chip has just put what has become her regular coffee order even though he didn’t know whether she was going to be here or not.

Wall-E raises his eyebrows, and Holly starts unpacking her books again.

“Thanks, Chip.”

“You are very welcome!”

“Holly’s going to keep her stuff here.” Wall-E tells him, not looking away from Holly.

“Oh, cool.” Chip puts his own coffee down and digs through his pockets for his keys. He inspects the complicated mess of rings and then detaches one of them and puts it next to Holly’s coffee. “You’d better have a key, then.”

“Is that one of your spares?” Tamsin takes the lid off her drink to inspect it and then, apparently happy with the contents, puts it back on again.

“Yup.”

“Do you keep them with your normal keys?”

“Yup.”

“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of it being a spare…?”

Chip pauses. This is clearly a new concept.

“Huh.”

Holly threads the office key onto her own keyring.

“Just be careful, Holly.” Tamsin takes a sip of her drink. “Once you have a key the crazy can start to get to you.”

“Next thing you know you’ll start spending complete 72 hour periods without leaving.” Chip’s comment is clearly aimed at Wall-E.

“I left to go to the toilet.” Wall-E protests. “And that only happened once.”

There’s a telling silence from the other two.

“Twice.” He amends. “Maybe three times. Not a lot, though.”

“I couldn’t do that.” Holly admits. “I can’t go that long without hot food, and it’s not like you’ve got a microwave in here.”

The pause from the others makes her a little nervous.

“We…” Tamsin frowns, looking around.

“We _did_ have a microwave.” Chip picks up his coffee, also looking around the room as if the microwave is going to materialise in front of him. “What on earth happened to it?”

 

Holly gets a text late that night on a group Whatsapp that she’s apparently just been added to. It’s a photo of a microwave, sitting on the bookshelf a few shelves above Arwen’s bed, spotlessly clean. The accompanying message just says **Found it!** and Holly makes a mental note to check for fire hazards when she gets into the office.

 

**

It’s just Holly and Wall-E in the office on Tuesday afternoons, because Chip teaches _Early Boatbuilding_ to second-year undergraduates and Tamsin has lab time. They don’t technically have office hours for the Norse Studies students on Tuesdays, but that doesn’t stop the occasional person from trying anyway.

“Um. Hi.” He looks like a first year. Holly was never that young. “I was wondering if there was somebody I could talk to about an essay on maritime navigation?” He’s talking to Wall-E, because it was Wall-E who yelled for him to come in when he knocked, and anyway Holly’s just here for the desk space and the books, even if this guy couldn’t know that.

Wall-E looks at Holly, and she realises with a jolt that although out of the two of them Wall-E is the research student who provides support to other students as part of his work, Holly’s actually probably going to be more help with this particular question than Wall-E would be. It’s much more her area.

“Sure.” She stands up and snags the chair from Chip’s desk, moving a stack of partially-marked essays from the seat to the desk and wheeling the chair over next to her own. “Where are you stuck?”

 

**

“Hi, stranger.” Rich leans in the kitchen doorway, blocking Holly’s exit. “Didn’t you used to live here?”

“I live here.” Holly snaps lids onto the row of plastic boxes in front of her, salvaged from the takeaways they’ve shared in this house over the years.

“You pay rent.” Rich allows. “But it’s not like you’re ever here. You only come home to sleep these days. We miss you, Holly Wolcowitz! The house is cold and empty without your shining presence!”

“I must have been away too much, I missed the part where you switched from Physics to Performing Arts.” Holly pushes the boxes to the back of the counter and turns to face him. “Anyway, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“And we’re very grateful.” Rich comes over and envelops her in a hug which is based on genuine affection and exaggerated by about 80% for the drama.

“Aww, it’s Holly!” She can’t see Andy because her face is squashed into Rich’s frankly impressive bicep, but there’s the weight of a second housemate draped over her back a moment later. “I remember Holly!”

“Ugh, let me out.” Holly wriggles out from between the guys and fixes her ponytail. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much, I didn’t realise you were so dependent on me.” They both pout. She’s used to it, it doesn’t affect her any more. “And I’m here now, if you want to watch a film or something.”

“What’s for dinner?” Andy turns away to poke at the food she’s been portioning out.

“That’s not! That’s my meals for the next few days.”

“So you just come home to tease us with the smell of cooking, and grace us with your presence for one evening before you abandon us again?”

Holly sighs. “Pasta bake?”

“Pasta bake!” Rich cheers, and Holly rolls her eyes at Andy.

“Has he been this dramatic all the time?”

“Yeah.” Andy looks long suffering. “This is why you mustn’t leave me with him!”

“I’m just trying to get somewhere on my dissertation.”

“I know, babe.” Rich puts his arm around her. “I know that it’s all about your studies and nothing to do with you having a crush on one of the PhD students, we’re just teasing.”

That’s actually the first time either of her housemates has suggested that she has a crush, and Holly can feel herself turning red.

“Oh! Ha! I knew it!” Rich crows. “Which one is it?”

“If you want me to make you dinner you drop this right now.” Holly plants her hands on her hips and channels her mother, which always works to shut the guys up even if they’re both at least eight inches taller than her.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry, Holly.”

“We just miss you, and we thought there must be a good reason why you haven’t been here.”

“Out.” Holly points at the door, and they trail out of the kitchen like kicked puppies. It’s entirely put on for the dramatics, despite them both being scientists.

Moving in with the guys had been an easy decision at the start of their final undergraduate year. She’d lived with Rich’s girlfriend in Halls during first year, and shared a house with her and some other girls during second year, so it had practically been like living with Rich anyway. Then, when Rich and Katie split up and he’d decided that he couldn’t face continuing to live with his mates from the rugby team if he couldn’t escape to his girlfriend’s much cleaner house on a regular basis, Holly had decided that since she got on better with Rich than she ever had with Katie she was happy to join him in looking for a new place. Andy was in a lot of Rich’s classes, and his second year housemates were all heading off on placement years, so the three of them fell together and it just worked. The house is reasonably clean, the rent and bills get paid on time, and since all three of them stayed on for postgraduate studies it made sense to keep living together.

Rich brings home girls occasionally, although he claims he’s not looking for a relationship.

Andy doesn’t bring girls home, and doesn’t appear to have any interest in that side of student life.

Holly doesn’t bring girls home either. She’s not entirely sure if the guys have noticed who she’s leaving bars with on the rare nights that she doesn’t come home, but they’ve never mentioned it and the subject has somehow never come up. It’s not like she wants either of them to wingman for her anyway - the thought alone fills her with horror.

Her housemates are lovely guys but they’re anything but subtle.

 

“So, there’s three of them, right?” Andy waits until they’ve eaten and the threat of withholding dinner no longer stands before he brings up the subject of Holly’s potential crush again. They’re piled onto the sofa together in front of the TV, Holly in the middle like usual, and she can’t get away from them.

“There’s the guy who’s helping you with some of the navigation stuff.” Rich starts listing them.

“But you were complaining about him a few weeks ago,” Andy chips in. “You said you’d already got a big brother and you don’t need another one, so I’m going to guess that you don’t have any romantic feelings towards him.”

Holly can’t suppress a grin at the thought of fancying Chip. It’s true that he treats her like a little sister, she’s probably the only masters student who’s picked a topic quite so close to his research area and he seems to like looking out for her. It reminds her of the way Simon used to casually appear at breaktimes at school when she was having trouble with some of the girls in her class. So yeah, no romantic feelings towards Chip, thanks.

“And there’s that other dude, the one with the beard.”

“The guy from the Co-op?”

They’d bumped into Wall-E in the Co-op the other week. Well, Holly had been out on a drinks run with Andy, and Wall-E had also been in the Co-op. When he’d spotted her he’d frozen on the spot, then snapped his fingers and muttered _custard creams_ before turning on his heel and marching off to the biscuit aisle. Apparently Holly’s mere presence had been enough to remind him that they’d been out of biscuits in the office for several days, although he never bothered to elaborate. Tamsin had thanked her the next day for reminding him, anyway.

Rich and Andy exchange glances over Holly’s head, and she pretends to be absorbed in the opening scenes of _Jupiter Ascending._

“Nah.” Rich says. “I don’t think the beard’s to your taste.”

Wall-E does have an impressive beard, but it’s the sort that comes from just never bothering to shave rather than any kind of… styling. Out of the lot of them he’s the only one who looks like he might do Viking battle reenactments.

“That just leaves the girl, then.” Andy says. “The one you were talking to in the cafeteria the other day.”

Holly really likes this film. She’s not listening to them.

“Got to be. She’s more your type, isn’t she?”

Rich sounds like it’s a genuine question, not really leading anywhere. And Tamsin is more her type than big-brother Chip or bearded Wall-E, that’s true. She’s witty, and her eyes sparkle when she’s teasing the boys, and she’s got terrible taste in shirts and she’s _really_ knowledgeable about Icelandic poetry and yeah, okay, maybe Holly does have a bit of a crush.

It’s not like she’s going to _do_ anything about it.

It’s just nice to have, that’s all.

 

**

“Chip wants to know if we want breakfast. Bacon butties?” Wall-E looks up from his phone. “Girls?”

“Yeah.” Tamsin plugs her laptop charger into the wall and trails the cable carefully towards the couch. “Please.”

“Holly?”

“Uh. Is there a veggie option?”

“Probably.” Wall-E texts something and his phone buzzes a moment later. “Chip says: fried egg sandwich; potato hash scramble, whatever that is; or american pancakes.”

“Potato hash scramble sounds good.”

“Okay. Bacon butties for me and Tamsin, sausage for Arwen, potato hash scramble for Holly.” Wall-E talks as he texts. “I didn’t know you were veggie.”

“I’m not really.”

“Holly doesn’t eat pork, dummy.”

“Oh. Oh!” Wall-E nods, mostly to himself. “Okay.”

 

Chip breezes in ten minutes later with a bag full of polystyrene boxes, which he distributes.

“Bacon, bacon, sausage-and-egg, potato scramble, just a sausage on its own, potato scramble with black pudding.” He checks the boxes as he gets them out. “Your potato thing looked really good, Holly, so I got a non-veggie one for me.”

Wall-E takes the solitary sausage and breaks it into pieces, checking it’s not too hot before he passes a chunk to Arwen. “One of those for Sean?”

“Yeah.” Chip picks up the box with the sausage and egg buttie. “I’ll just run it down to him.”

Holly hasn’t met Sean yet, but he’s on the second floor which means he’s in the literature faculty. All three of the others seem to know him well, but History and Literature overlap quite a lot and Holly’s ended up living with scientists so it’s not like she doesn’t understand interdisciplinary friendships. Sean seems to have his life a bit more together than the others, anyway, from what she’s picked up from their conversations. He’s married, and his wife has a real job, and they live off-campus like actual adults. Sometimes Wall-E has dinner with them and Emma makes him eat vegetables.

 

**

Holly’s had a key to the office for almost a month the first time Dr Hart actually comes in. It shouldn’t be a surprise, after all the other three all work fairly closely with him on their research, it’s just that he doesn’t often actually come in to their room. They tend to meet with him in his own office or in lecture theatres.

He wanders in as if he owns the place - which she guesses he kind of does, as the supervising professor - and starts rummaging through the books. Arwen gets up from her cushion and stretches before pattering over to him, and Dr Hart finds a biscuit in his cardigan pocket for her.

None of the others take much notice of him, so Holly just keeps plotting the chart she’s working on and watches him out of the corner of her eye.

Dr Hart picks up a couple of books, and then looks around the room as if he’s just checking in. She can almost see the cogs turning as he counts his research students and realises he’s got one too many.

“Chip.”

“Hmm?” Chip looks up from his laptop. “Oh! This is Holly. She’s working on that astronavigation thing we were discussing on Monday.”

“Ah.” Dr Hart thinks for a second. “Wolcowitz!”

He gets the pronunciation spot on.

Holly’s not sure what to do. He knows who she is, she knows who he is, and yet she still feels like they’re only just being introduced.

It’s possible that Dr Hart shares this feeling of awkwardness, because he just stares at her for a moment, then nods. “Good.”

 

**

“Yes, Mum, I know, but I have to be here for classes. I can’t afford to miss anything, not this year.”

Or last year, or the year before. Holly’s not been home for Hanukkah since she was a first year. They get all this unnecessary time off for Christmas, but she has classes this week.

“You know your grandmother’s going to be disappointed.”

 _Disappointed_ is pretty much Nanna’s default setting, so there’s not a lot that Holly can do about it.

“I’m sorry, Mum, but I really don’t think I can.” She fishes for her keys and fights with the lock on the front door. “Not this year.”

“And it’s Rebecca’s first Hanukkah.” Mum adds, as if Holly didn’t know. “It’d be a real shame if you have to miss it.”

“Yes, Mum.” Actually, Simon sent her a text just yesterday to tell her not to let Mum guilt trip her. Yes, Hanukkah’s about being with your family, but Rebecca’s six months old and she’s not going to know if her Auntie Holly is there or not, not this year.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go, Mum.”

“Okay, well, call us later, okay?”

“Yes. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Bye!”

Holly ends the call before her mother can start in on the subject of whether Holly is eating properly, stuffing her phone into her pocket.

“Annual guilt-trip?” Rich looks up from the pages of calculations he’s got spread over the dining table.

“Monthly.” Holly collapses onto the sofa with a sigh. “I just wish she’d accept that she can’t nag me about working hard eleven months of the year and then demand I just drop everything when she wants me at home.”

“Cup of tea?” Rich has been there through the _why can’t you come home for Hanukkah_ calls since second year, he knows the drill.

“Please.”

 

**

Rich and Andy both make an effort to be home on December 2nd, when Holly lights the first candle. They’re her substitute family, and they get that this is important to her when she can’t go home.

 

It always makes her feel a bit sad, being away from home at this time of year, but at least the Christmas decorations which permeate campus haven’t encroached on the office. Holly’s not sure that Wall-E’s even aware that it’s December.

“Morning.” Holly dumps her laptop bag in a patch of clear space on her desk, which is noticeably more cluttered than when she left on Friday. “What’s happened to my desk?”

“I think the book is instead of a note.” Tamsin tells her, and Holly realises that the textbook in the centre of the desk has been placed deliberately.

It’s one of her books, recognisable from the coloured tape she binds the edges of the covers with whenever she buys a book that half of her coursemates will also own. It takes a second for the penny to drop that it’s _Viking Stargazing by Christopher S Hart_ and that that must mean that the little net of chocolate coins placed on top of the book is probably from Dr Hart.

“Huh.” Holly sits down and picks up the chocolate. “Did he…?”

“Yeah.” Wall-E pulls a handful of tangled cables out of his desk drawer and starts trying to extract his phone charger. “Nobody else got any.”

 

**

“Excuse me, please.” The students who are milling around in the hallway after _Maritime Mythology_ part to let Dr Hart through. “Thanks. Hi, Holly.”

“Hi.” Her voice is a little more of a squeak than she’d like, but she wasn’t expecting him to actually speak to her.

“...Did Dr Hart just call you by name?” Toby pokes her shoulder to get her attention.

“Um. Yes?”

“It’s because she’s all cosied up with the doctoral research students.” Liv says, as if Toby really should have known this. “Holly’s practically got onto the programme already and there aren’t even any applications open.”

“It’s not like that!” It’s not. Holly just started going in to talk through bits of her dissertation with Chip, and she’s just kind of been absorbed by accident. She’s not scheming to get onto the PhD programme.

“Never mind that!” Toby’s staring at them like he can’t believe they’re missing the point that he hasn’t even made yet. “Holly’s in prime position to find out about Dr Hart’s secret Fight Club!”

That’s Toby’s favourite out of the current theories about Dr Hart’s injuries. A couple of weeks after the bruising on his face finally healed, it had been very obvious that he was walking more awkwardly than usual, and Wall-E had been seen insisting on taking anything that Dr Hart attempted to carry for several days. Toby’s parents are both nurses and apparently that qualifies him to diagnose broken ribs from a distance.

“Fight Club!” Liv scoffs. “Come on, he’s just really accident prone.”

That’s a more realistic theory, probably, except that Holly has never seen Dr Hart so much as miss a step or walk into a desk. He’s absent-minded but he does seem to have good spatial awareness.

“Well, whatever it is, Holly can find out, and then she can tell us, and then we can clean up.”

Toby’s also convinced that somebody must be running a book on the cause of Dr Hart’s injuries. Holly’s pretty sure that the reason he hasn’t worked out who’s running the book yet is because there isn’t one, but he’s even more attached to that idea than he is to his Fight Club theory.

“Anyway,” Liv looks at her watch, “I’ve got to get to work, so keep me posted.”

“And I’m supposed to be meeting the guys from my military history class for lunch.” Toby takes a step in the general direction of the cafeteria. “But we’re counting on you, Holly! Get us the goss!”

Holly’s pretty sure that there is no gossip, and absolutely certain that there’s no point trying to convince her friends of that, so she just waves and heads for the stairs.

 

Dr Hart is sitting on the floor of the office. He’s appropriated Arwen’s cushion from the bookshelf, even though it’s covered in dog hair, and Arwen is curled up with her head on his leg which is more affection than she normally shows to anybody other than Wall-E.

Dr Hart is reading aloud. Holly recognises that it’s a form of Icelandic, but she’s not quick enough with the spoken language to understand the poem. If she saw it written down she’d probably do better.

It’s not clear _why_ he’s sitting on the floor of their office reading to the dog, but nobody else seems to think that it’s weird. Tamsin’s getting her things together ready for her lab session, and Chip is eating a sandwich while he checks through his notes for the _Early Boatbuilding_ lecture he’s giving at two.

There’s a five-pack of supermarket doughnuts on Holly’s desk - or at least the packet. There’s only one doughnut left.

“This mine?” She mouths at Tamsin when she manages to catch her eye, not wanting to interrupt Dr Hart. Tamsin shoots her a thumbs up and then points at Dr Hart, presumably indicating that he bought the doughnuts. Holly slides the paper bag over next to where she’s dumped her laptop, to show that she’s taking possession of it, and then gets her lunch out of her bag and takes it over to the microwave.

She has to step over Dr Hart’s outstretched legs to get there, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

 

Chip’s the first to go, collecting his lecture notes and muttering something about picking up printing.

“Don’t forget to share those slides!” Dr Hart calls after him, and Chip raises a hand in acknowledgement as the door swings shut behind him.

“I guess I ought to get going, then.” Tamsin pulls herself out of the couch. “Things to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She rarely comes back to the office after her lab session.

“See you, T.” Dr Hart actually waves at her, and Tamsin doesn’t even blink at being addressed only by her initial.

Dr Hart makes no attempt to move off the floor and take advantage of the recently vacated furniture.

“How would you translate that last part?” Wall-E asks, suddenly. He’s appeared to be absorbed in his computer the whole time, and Holly had no idea he was paying attention.

“Well, I’d-“ Dr Hart falls silent abruptly when there’s a knock at the door.

Wall-E grins. “Come in!”

“Hi.” It’s Holly’s nervous first year student from the other week. “Um. I don’t want to disturb you, I just wanted to say, uh, I got a 92 on that essay, so I just wanted to say thank you. It made so much more sense after talking to you.”

“You’re welcome.” It’s incredibly awkward, because he’s got no idea that Dr Hart is pretty much hiding behind Wall-E’s desk, and here’s Holly looking like she’s been behaving as if she belongs in this office.

The first year smiles nervously and then shuffles away. Wall-E stands up slowly until he can see over his computer monitor to where Dr Hart is sitting. “It’s okay, the fresher has gone.”

“I didn’t think you did hours on Tuesdays.”

“We don’t, but he came in a couple of weeks ago on spec, and since he should have been one of Chip’s and there was only me and Holly here, he’s more Holly’s ballpark than mine.”

“First year _Maritime Navigation_?” Dr Hart folds his legs in, apologising to Arwen for disturbing her. “I do _not_ miss teaching that. It was the last of the first year courses that I managed to shift, too. Still, good work.” He nods to Holly. “Being able to explain things to the undergraduate herd is important.”

Holly just smiles nervously. This is the most Dr Hart has ever said to her.

Wall-E’s phone pings with a reminder. “You’re teaching in twenty minutes.”

Dr Hart sighs. “Thanks. You don’t want to teach it for me, do you?”

“No thanks.” Wall-E’s response is firm, as if this is a genuine question that he’s learnt to shut down quickly.

“Holly? Third year _Icelandic Poetry?”_

Holly can’t stop herself from shuddering, and he laughs. “Fair enough. Sorry, Arwen, I’ve got to go. You can have your cushion back, though.” He stands up and twists to look at the back of his legs, shaking his head. “Covered in dog hair.”

He makes no attempt to brush any of it off.

 

**

Holly’s phone buzzes on the desk. She glances down at it, and makes the split-second decision to let **_Mum Mobile_ ** go to voicemail. Mum’s only going to repeat the same things she said yesterday, about how _lovely_ it is to have the family around and what a _shame_ it is that Holly can’t be there. Rehashing the conversation isn’t going to change anything.

It buzzes again a few minutes later with an incoming voicemail. Holly doesn’t answer that either - Simon once made the mistake of telling Mum about how if you leave somebody a voicemail and then call them back and their number’s engaged, you know that they’re listening to it and that if they don’t call back they’re screening calls rather than not available. Mum’s never forgotten.

“Avoiding somebody?” Chip leans back in his chair and stretches. He was already in the office when Holly came in and she’s got the impression he’s been here since really early.

“My mother. It’s time for our annual game of _why can’t you come home for Hanukkah?_ phone tag.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“No, I do, but it’s not like I can just ditch classes. Term only stops for Christian holidays, and it take over three hours to get home from here.”

“I think they have to make allowances for you, though?”

“It’s the work I’d miss, too.” Holly’s never liked making a big deal out of her religion. Yes, there are supposed to be allowances made, but not everybody likes making them and sometimes it’s not worth the fallout. She prefers to pick her battles - Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur falling in term time won’t stop her going home. Passover’s going to fall in the university’s Easter break, but for Hanukkah she’ll make do. Regardless of what Mum thinks.

“So you’d be missing...” Chip thinks about it. “You’ve got the _Astronavigation_ seminar tomorrow, but that’s with me and I know you’re already ahead of the group. Friday… what do you do on Fridays?”

_“Pre-industrial Agriculture.”_

“Huh.” Chip looks surprised. “I didn’t know that. Tamsin knows Professor Magnusson, though, she’ll get you the slides. Then Monday’s _Norse Seafaring_ , I’ll send you those slides in a minute and we can have a chat next week if you want.”

“I also have _Bardic Storytelling_ on Mondays.”

Chip snorts. “They used to get so many more students sign up when they still called it _Oral Traditions._  A lot of them dropped out within a couple of weeks. Anyway, that’s run by the Literature Faculty so Sean’s bound to know who can get you the notes. Would you be back in time for _Maritime Mythology_ on Tuesday?”

It’s a ten o’clock lecture. “Probably not.”

“I can send you those slides as well, then. I mean, if you want, you don’t have to go home if you don’t want to and classes are a good excuse.”

“No, this is.. great.” Holly’s brain is whirling with what she needs to pack, and what times the trains are. “Thank you!”

 

**

Holly deliberately packed light to go down to her family home, because she knew she’d come back carrying twice the weight.

She’s not a bad cook, she feeds herself just fine, but there’s no way her mother and grandmother were going to miss an opportunity to weigh her down with good, home-cooked food.

“I’ll never eat all this, Nanna!”

“Then feed those nice young men who’ve been looking after you!”

 _Those nice young men_ encompasses both Chip for his help in freeing up her week, and Rich and Andy who’d almost been disappointed when she’d told them she was going home for a few days.

 _“Do we keep doing this?”_ Andy had asked, as she lit the fourth candle on Wednesday night. _“When you’re not here?”_

 _“You don’t need to.”_ Holly had been a bit confused.

_“Yeah, but. It feels like since we’ve started we ought to keep going.”_

They didn’t know any of the prayers, of course, but they’d sent her a photo every night of the menorah, correct number of candles glowing.

Nanna had been very impressed.

 

Wall-E is also very impressed. Luckily Nanna’s baking can keep up with the largest of appetites, because he’s working through the nearest tupperware box at a steady pace.

“You going to save any of those for the rest of us?” Tamsin sounds like it’s a genuine question, like he really might not.

Holly’s got two more boxes in her bag. “We’re not about to run out.”

 

Actually, there are three boxes in her bag, but the third one is specifically for Dr Hart on Nanna’s instructions, and Holly’s not going to go against Nanna’s instructions. She’ll know, somehow. Nanna always knows.

Mum and Nanna, and the assorted aunts who descend during Hanukkah, had been very impressed when she’d mentioned how the earlier part of the week had gone. Obviously there was a large serving of guilt for not getting home earlier, but they’d understood the significance of the doctor bringing in chocolate coins and doughnuts, even if it had probably been lost on the other students. Chip has been declared an appropriate substitute for Simon - this has Simon’s enthusiastic support as he claims to be too busy to have time for Holly any more, even if that’s a lie - and Dr Hart an appropriate supervisor.

That’s going to help when Holly tells them that she wants to go on and do a PhD instead of coming home and getting married. Hopefully.

Nanna’s almost certainly got some potential husbands lined up just in case.

 

“So, what do you do over the Christmas break?” Chip leans against Wall-E’s desk, probably to get closer to the snacks. “Do you go home again?”

Holly shrugs. “Maybe not, this year. I usually do if I wasn’t home for Hanukkah, but it’s not like they do anything special so I’ll probably just stay here. Sleep in.”

There’s a significant glance which passes between Chip and Tamsin. Holly hopes that it’s not the precursor to somebody misunderstanding and trying to insist that she join them for Christmas. She _likes_ sleeping in and watching non-seasonal movies.

Wall-E’s phone buzzes and interrupts them. “ _Timber preservation_ in fifteen minutes. I’m on a roll here, can one of you set up?”

“Yeah, okay.” Tamsin sighs and hauls herself out of the couch. “Are you on a roll with your research or with Holly’s Nan’s baking?”

“Arwen, this woman is insulting me. Defend me.”

Arwen opens one eye and then closes it again.

“Which lecture hall?”

“Richmond.” Wall-E fiddles with his phone and then Tamsin’s lights up on the arm of the couch. “That should be the details, I checked this morning and the presentation is in the right place on the server.”

“Okay.”

“And he’s definitely here because I swung by his office on the way in.”

“Cool, I’ll knock on the way down then.” Tamsin stretches and her back cracks. “Oh, that’s better. Holly, do you want to come? See how it works?”

“Sure.” Holly’s got a pretty good idea of how they set up for Dr Hart’s lectures, but it won’t hurt to get out of the office for a bit. It’s always hard to get focused again after going home.

 

They stop on the second floor so Tamsin can stick her head around the door of 208 and give Dr Hart a ten minute warning, and then take the first floor bridge to the next building so that they don’t have to go out in the rain to reach the lecture hall.

The previous class is letting out, so Tamsin ducks in through the front set of doors, trailing Holly in her wake.

She logs on to the lecture hall’s computer terminal - “Can you imagine if we had to rely on him remembering to turn up with his laptop?!” - and sets up the presentation.

“Can you check for pens, please?”

Holly does a quick sweep of the front of the hall, checking for whiteboard markers left on ledges.

“Just the one.”

“Cool.” Tamsin opens a drawer. “Stick it in. The people who actually use the whiteboards know where to look.”

 

It’s an undergraduate course, available to both Norse Studies and Archeology students, so Holly’s not expecting to recognise any of the students. She still feels like a bit of a fraud, hanging around by the doors at the front of the hall while most of the students file in at the back. The few students who come in at the front are looking at her because they don’t know her, rather than because they think she doesn’t belong.

Dr Hart strides through the door only two minutes late, slightly damp from the rain, and comes over to collect the remote control for the presentation. He pauses when he realises that there are two of them, then nods as Tamsin hands him the remote. “Good. Good plan. Overlap them. I like it.”

He launches into the introduction for the class, and Tamsin and Holly make their escape.

 

“What did he mean, about overlapping?”

One thing about spending so much time on the fourth floor is how much easier the stairs are these days. Holly’s hardly out of breath at all.

“Oh, probably that it’s a good idea for you to know how to do all the lecture setup stuff, you know. So that there are always three of us that know what we’re doing.”

“What do you mean?” There are already three of them. “Do you mean if somebody’s away or off sick or something?”

Tamsin pushes open the door to the office. “Chip, have you not told Holly about Greenland?”

 

Chip’s thesis is edging closer to completion

Chip’s been offered an exciting research opportunity in Greenland, which starts in April and runs for at least a year.

Chip’s determined to get his thesis done before then, because otherwise he’s going to end up rewriting the whole thing based on whatever happens in Greenland and he’ll never end up finishing it.

Chip finishing his thesis will open up a spot for a new PhD student to work with Dr Hart.

What Tamsin calls _The Crazy_ is starting to get to Chip, because he’s genuinely confused that Holly didn’t know any of this.

 

“You’ve got time.” Dr Hart tucks the tupperware box that Nanna had designated for him securely under his arm. “It won’t be announced until at least February, and then there’s a couple of months before we close the applications.” He turns towards the doorway and then pauses and turns back. “You are planning on applying, right?”

Holly nods. “Um, yes.”

“Good. We have to consider all applications fairly, etcetera, but at least I know that you’re not going to beat me up if you don’t get in!”

He laughs, and leaves. Holly stares blankly at the others.

“What?”

Tamsin laughs. “Oh, you’ll be in with a really good chance. He likes you, you fit into the team.”

“Your work is exactly the kind of thing he wants to see more of.” Chip adds.

Holly was actually referring to the comment about beating him up, but nobody seems to want to elaborate on that.

Might be the kind of gossip that Toby wants, though.

“Anyway.” Chip continues. “Now that you know, which I didn’t know that you didn’t, are you free on Boxing Day?”

“I… think so?” Holly doesn’t want to commit in case she’s being invited to a pity Christmas.

“Cool.” Tamsin checks something on her phone. “We’ll pick you up at three, you need to dress warm.”

“And we need your address so that we know where to pick you up from.” Wall-E adds. “Obviously.”


	3. Sean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally get round to some hockey - although at a slightly lower level than we're used to...

The lads think they’re bloody hilarious, switching his visor for a full face cage. It’s not even the full clear shield that normally gets dusted off when somebody’s got a facial injury that needs protecting, it’s one of the cages like the juniors wear.

In fact, this is probably the exact one that they took off Marky’s bucket on his eighteenth birthday six weeks ago.

(Marky put it straight back on, not wanted to skate with a visor instead of a cage for the first time in an actual game, but he’s adjusted now.)

It’s only training, though, and the best way to deal with chirps is to pretend not to notice, so Sean puts the helmet on, cage and all, and clumps out to the ice like nothing’s new.

 

There’s a smattering of laughter when he skates out, which Sean ignores. If the boys prank you, you’ve got to own it.

“We thought maybe you should practice with it, ahead of Wednesday’s game.” Jonno thinks he’s clever.

“Good idea.” Sean tells him, just to watch the wind come out of his sails. “Thanks.”

It’s been years since he’s worn a face cage. He’s protected facial injuries with the full shield once or twice over the years, but he hasn’t worn a cage since he was eighteen and that was eighteen years ago. Jesus, Marky wasn’t even _born_ last time Sean had to wear a face cage.

 

“Feeling retro, Cap?” Carlson joins him when Sean’s finished his laps and started his stretches.

“Something like that.” Sean likes Carlson - he likes all the guys, of course, they’re his team, but Carlson’s one of the few that’s got a bit of a brain. He’s also very unlikely to have been involved in switching Sean’s visor. Carlson’s always one of the first out to the ice, which would give the guys time to make the switch after he’d gone but while Sean was still talking to the coaches.

“You really going to wear that for the game?”

Sean shrugs. “Maybe.”

“They’ll think you’re scared.”

 _They,_ in this context, being the visiting team.

“Pros and cons, though.” Sean folds in his left leg and extends his right. “I don’t really enjoy being punched in the face.”

“Not planning to go again?”

“I wasn’t planning to go last time!”

Carlson laughs. Sean’s not a fighter, never has been, but everybody knows that it’s going to get physical when they play the Tribe. Elliott Reece has an A on his jersey and a chip on his shoulder that’s entirely focused on Sean.

“Maybe it’ll make his chirps a little less predictable, give him some new material.”

“That would be nice.”  Sean finishes stretching and gets to his feet. “As long as we win, though, that’s all that matters. He can say what he likes if we beat them again.”

“Of course we’re going to beat them.” That’s not just Carlson being supportive, not just the A on his jersey talking. They’ve played the Tribe three times this year - twice in preseason ‘friendlies’ and once in the season - and beat them convincingly every time.

It just adds to Reece’s anger. Another area where he’s second best.

 

**

Christmas screams past in a blur. They go to Emma’s parents, which is great because Emma doesn’t need to cook and she’s hit that point in the pregnancy where her mum insists that Emma put her feet up and relax rather than forcing her to peel tons of vegetables. It’s not so great when they have to extract Caitlyn from her grandparents on the morning of the 26th, strap her into a car that’s loaded down with the toys she’s been given, and drive home so that Sean can play hockey.

 

**

“Why’s 22 wearing a cage, then?”

Sean’s not close enough to the red line for Reece to yell at him direct, not without starting an incident during warm-up, so Reece is asking Marky instead. Marky’s aware that there’s a dig involved in the question, but he’s too naive to just ignore him and skate away.

“Work, I think.” Or maybe he’s smarter than Sean had given him credit for. “He’s got the kind of job where it’s not appropriate for him to walk in with a bust lip, you know?”

Either Marky’s totally innocent or that was a smart put-down. There’s nothing that Reece can say to that which won’t be interpreted as him being a dick to one of the younger guys on the other team, especially given that he won’t know if Marky’s aware that Reece would love a job like Sean’s.

Sean’s not entirely sure himself whether Marky knows or not. It’s not a secret, why Sean and Reece don’t get along, but Marky’s new to the team this season and it’s possible he hasn’t heard the story.

He’s also not the sharpest chisel in the toolbox.

Reece shoot a sharp look at Sean, which Sean pretends not to notice, and skates away towards his own net.

 

The rivalry has always been weighted one-way. Reece hates Sean. Reece is jealous of Sean, and he holds Sean responsible for his life not going the way he wanted over the last couple of years. Sean’s just reacting to Reece bringing his off-ice issues with Sean onto the ice and into the game. He’s got nothing personal against the guy.

 

The game opens exactly as expected from Spitfires v Tribe - the clock’s only counted down eight minutes and there have already been ten penalty minutes called.

Four of those minutes belong to Reece - 2 minutes for Roughing, with a matching coincidental minor for Jonno, and 2 minutes for Hooking. Sean would have called that as Tripping, personally, but it’s minutes on his record and time in the box either way.

Len’s trying to keep them apart, using the home ice advantage to balance the lines and to not put Sean out when Reece is on the ice. It’s not clear if the Tribe’s bench coach is doing the same, trying to avoid the inevitable penalty that Sean’s going to draw, or whether it’s a coincidence. Either way, it means that Reece is nominally on the bench, one knee up against the boards ready to go even though none of his teammates are coming in for a change, desperate to get out on the ice, when Sean intercepts a fumbled Tribe pass and finds himself heading into the zone with only one defenseman to duck around before he’s one on one with a goalie he knows he can beat.

Reece likes to accuse him of arrogance - it’s one that tends to repeat on his long list of Sean’s negative personality traits - but Sean prefers to think of it as confidence. He knows even before the puck leaves his stick that the goalie is going to move to Sean’s left to intercept, making it easy to twist the puck into the acres of space over the guy’s other shoulder.

It’s not arrogance, it’s just being good at what he does.

 

They get good crowds, for a team at this level, mostly because they’re not part of a franchise and there’s no higher level team based here to steal the fans, and two hundred and fifty people cheer when the red light goes on.

Sean skates by the bench for fist bumps and looks right through Reece.

 

After Carlson’s goal, where Sean gets the first assist, Reece is over the boards for the line change the second the whistle goes and it’s to his obvious frustration that Sean’s confirming the scorers to the ref and isn’t available for some pointless pushing and shoving.

 

Len’s doing his best, but he can’t run their entire game plan around limiting Reece’s opportunities to get to Sean, and Sean doesn’t need him to. Even if that had been Len’s main focus, that wouldn’t help when Sean gets stuck back in the defensive zone during a line change and Reece hits the ice.

He’s not even subtle, though, obviously frustrated by being two goals down with no outlet for the attitude he always brings to Spitfire games, and there’s no way the refs could miss the way he charges in to intercept the puck and executes the most blatant trip.

Sean’s well aware that the refs are watching and allows himself to fall when he could almost certainly have kept his footing, changing the angle of his stick at the last second to send the puck skittering towards Marky.

There’s a striped arm in the air, and as Sean surges back to his feet he can see Gibbo sprinting for the bench - so much as Gibbo ever sprints anywhere. Sean powers towards the blue line, knowing that he’s got Reece and his linemates with him, keeping their attention as Marky shakes off two defensemen, each of whom is roughly double his size, loops behind the net and tucks the puck in under their goalie’s pad.

The whistle goes, Reece’s penalty gets recorded, and the Tribe’s coach isn’t shy about letting Reece know how unimpressed he is.

Sean tunes out after _for fuck’s sake, Elliott!_ and accepts the water bottle that Johnson passes over to him as he finally gets to sit down for a minute.

 

Even the good refs can’t see everything, and these refs are… average, at best, so it’s hardly a surprise that Reece gets away with blatant interference just as the Spitfires are going for a line change. Len’s howling mad, when Reece converts that into a charge up the ice with one of his linemates, barreling into the zone two-on-one against Gibbo and planting the puck behind him in a goal that should never have been allowed.

 

Reece scores again a few minutes into the third. This one’s a good goal, much as Sean hates to admit it, a clever series of passes and a beautiful feint that had Gibbo in totally the wrong place to prevent Reece from going top-shelf.

Sean glares up at the scoreboard. 3-2 is not where this game should be.

Clearly he’s going to have to do this himself.

 

He goes in low for the face-off, beating the Tribe’s centre to the puck and slinging it back and to the right, over to Carlson’s waiting stick. Carlson doesn’t hang on to it, whipping it forwards towards the blue line so that all Sean has to do is touch it before he can carry it into the zone. Carlson’s there behind him, Wayne out to his left, the D coming up in support, but Sean’s able to twist past the bulk of the Tribe defense and send the puck home five-hole before anybody else has caught up.

Reece’s swearing is drowned out by the fans.

 

The Spitfires find themselves on the penalty kill with nine minutes gone in the period, thanks to Jonno’s wandering stick, and Len leaves Sean out on the ice to anchor the first PK unit even after Reece’s line flows over the boards.

The Tribe are undoubtedly supposed to be using their man advantage to pull the score back to within one goal, to give themselves the opportunity to level or maybe even pull ahead in the second half of the period, but of course Reece has other ideas when he finds himself on the ice with Sean.

Len probably left Sean out there on purpose.

Sean’s battling for the puck along the boards in the defensive zone when Reece crashes the party. The ref’s yelling at them to get the puck clear. Sean keeps his head down, aware of his teammates in his peripheral vision as he concentrates on getting the puck away from the Tribe players hemming him in.

It’s not exactly a shock when Reece tries to play dirty. Sean sees it coming, and relaxes just enough to absorb some of the force of the incoming elbow, so that his head moves with the hit and there’s no question that the contact was caused by Reece.

The ref misses it, somehow, and Reece drops his stick as he swears through the pain of jamming his elbow into Sean’s face cage.

Sean hooks the puck out from between his ankles and flicks it back to Carlson, who carries it out of the zone. There’s a Tribe defenseman in his way, skating backwards and totally oblivious to Jonno emerging from the penalty box right into his path.

It’s not Jonno’s fault, there was nowhere else for him to go, and it’s just enough of a delay to let Carlson burst forward one on one with a goalie who’s been hung out to dry.

 

The Tribe don’t appreciate being three goals down, and Reece isn’t the only one getting stroppy on the bench and on the ice.

He is the only one who’s het up enough to put in stupid hits right in front of the officials, though. Marky doesn’t even have the puck when Reece slams into him from behind, and it’s lucky that the kid wasn’t too close to the boards.

Reece whirls on the ref when the whistle blows, protesting his innocence even as his coach is yelling at him from the bench to shut up and go and sit down.

Sean leads the first PP unit onto the ice and grins at Reece, who finds another gear for his ranting and promptly earns himself a misconduct for Unsportsmanlike Conduct.

The Tribe pack a rookie off to sit the Cross Checking penalty, and Reece settles in to seethe the rest of the game away from the confines of the penalty box.

“Hey,” Carlson says as they bounce together before the face off. “You know what would really piss that whiny little bitch off?”

Dan grins around his mouth guard. “Hat trick for the captain?”

Carlson returns the grin. “Hat trick for the captain.”

Sean shrugs. “If that’s that plan…”

The Tribe have got used to Sean passing back to Carlson when he wins a face off, so he passes to Dan instead to keep them on their toes. Dan powers forwards, chipping it back to the D when a big Tribe defenseman with no teeth and very little hair closes in on him, and Carlson collects a pass to take into the zone. He slides it over to Sean, and the Tribe move to cover, so Sean passes it back and steps forward as they move back to cover Carlson, picking up the rapid return pass and tucking it in between the post and goalie’s trailing foot.

 

One solitary hat hits the ice.

Throwing hats onto the ice for a hat trick isn’t something that happens at this level. Sean’s never seen it in the league above, either.

He knows even before Marky skates off to pick it up that the hat belongs to Graeme. Graeme and his care worker sit in the same seats for every game, and this particular hat has been thrown onto the ice for every Spitfires hat trick for the past eight years.

 

The rookie comes out of the box with a burst of speed that’s totally unnecessary during a break in play, clearly keen to put as much space as possible between himself and Reece’s temper.

 

The rivalry has always been weighted one-way. Sean’s got nothing personal against the guy. That doesn’t mean there’s not a certain extra pleasure in beating the Tribe so thoroughly that Sean personally has more goals than their entire team.

 

The first stop, after the post match announcements and taking Captain’s Prerogative to get one of the first showers, is to return Graeme’s hat.

“Lucky.” Graeme points to the spot on his cap where he wants Sean to add his signature and the date, like every Spitfires hat trick scorer before him. “Hat trick.”

“You think it’s luck?” Sean teases, used to deciphering Graeme’s speech by now. “Not skill?”

Graeme laughs. “New helmet, lucky. Keep it.” He grins at his own joke, and Sean’s got the feeling he might be playing with a face cage more often.

 

The second stop is to catch up with friends and family, but his chat with Graeme has slowed him down enough that somebody else got to the group first.

“Grant!”

Sean’s friends have all turned to see what Reece wants, and Sean slows down a bit. It’s still weird that Reece calls Chip by his actual name. Nobody else ever does that around Sean.

Chip waits to see what Reece wants.

“I heard about Greenland.” Reece tells him. “Congratulations.” It looks like it might be physically painful to get the words out, but give the guy his due, he’s tried to stay professional with everybody else. It’s just Sean he holds responsible.

“Thanks.” Chip’s tone is cool. He’s just watched the game, after all, and Sean knows that they all think Reece is a bit pathetic for the way he goes on.

Emma’s not there, probably on her forty-seventh bathroom visit of the afternoon. Caitlyn’s sitting on Wall-E’s shoulders with both hands buried in his hair in a way that has to be uncomfortable for her steed.

They’ve brought Holly to the game - her first hockey match, by all accounts - and she’s clearly confused as to why the guy who spent the whole game trying to get at Sean is now making small talk.

T picks up on the confusion.

“Holly, this is Elliott Reece. He did his masters with Chip.”

That’s one way to put it. Sean’s begrudgingly impressed with Reece’s poker face.

Holly frowns, the way she does when she’s putting information together and about to make a breakthrough.

“Reece…” she’s trying to place his name. “Did you do your thesis on tidal variation in early shipping routes?”

“Yes!” Reece very rarely smiles like that, but then he probably very rarely gets recognised for his academic work.

Holly starts telling Reece about having read his thesis, and Sean jumps when Emma appears by his side and latches onto his arm.

“She’s smart.” Sean tells her.

“He’s wasting his time trying to flirt with her, though.” Emma points out.

“What do you mean?” Sean hadn’t even thought that Reece _was_ flirting, but Emma’s much better at spotting that kind of thing than he is.

“Well, obviously I only met her this afternoon, but I get the impression Holly’s interests don’t go that way.” Emma pats his arm with her free hand. “Although she appears to be too passionate about her subject to notice, anyway.” She grins. “A bit like somebody else I know.”

Look, it’s not Sean’s fault that she had to interrupt him mid-conversation one day to check if he knew they were dating, okay?

(And it’s natural to assume that the attractive Economics student has been meeting you for coffee, walks and dinner because she wants to talk about pre-medieval literature, right? Anybody could have missed that they were going on traditional date activities…)

“So what do you do now?” Holly’s asking, and Sean lets Emma pull him towards the group. He doesn’t mind hearing Reece admit that he’s working in manufacturing.

“I work for an independent company who design and build custom small sail and motor boats.” Reece reels it off as a well practiced phrase.

Holly nods slowly. “I guess that makes sense. There aren’t many obvious career paths from our line-“ she catches herself. “At least, according to my mother!”

There’s a shared laugh and moment of understanding between the students and Reece, who have probably all had the same conversation with well meaning but concerned parents.

“Daddy!” Caitlyn’s the first to spot him, and from Wall-E’s expression she’s pulled hard on his hair in her excitement. “You winned!”

“Won.” Sean corrects automatically. “Yes, we did!”

Reece looks like he’s bitten a lemon. Caitlyn clearly hasn’t realised he’s a player, but everybody else is enjoying the moment.

Well. Emma, Wall-E, T and Chip are enjoying the moment. Holly looks like her world view has been upended.

Reece realised that he’s lost his conversational partner, and takes in the look on Holly’s face.

“You know, I honestly didn’t think it was possible for you guys to get _worse_ at interpersonal stuff.”

“What?” Maybe they all got on okay, back before Reece’s application to the PhD programme was unsuccessful and his differences with Sean boiled over into direct antagonism, but Wall-E, Chip and T will all leap to the defensive if they think he’s insulting one or all of them.

Reece sighs, looking between Holly and Sean. “Did you actually _tell_ the new girl that he plays hockey?”

“Sure.” T takes up the conversation. “We said, Sean plays ice hockey, want to come and watch a game with us? Or something like that. Didn’t we?”

Holly nods. “Well, yeah, but…”

“But this guy doesn’t do normal conversation,” Reece gestures to Sean. “And I bet not one of you ever told her his name.”

There’s an awkward moment where Chip, T and Wall-E are obviously trying to work that one out. Emma starts to laugh.

“This is what happens when everybody calls you by your middle name, but you use everything _except_ your middle name at work.” She elbows Sean in the ribs, right on top of a new bruise.

“I mean, I kind of guessed when they told me their friend Sean was wearing number 22, and then your jersey had _Hart_ on the back…” Holly admits. “But until this afternoon I had no idea that your friend Sean and Dr Hart were _the same person_.” She glares at Chip and he holds his hands up. It’s funny because Holly’s all of about five foot three and he still looks nervous.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know that you didn’t know!”

“I guess it’s because there’s the whole Sean-and-Emma thing where he’s like an actual adult and a dad and everything.” Wall-E muses. “And then there’s Dr Hart who’s kind of hopelessly disorganised. I can see how you might not make the connection.”

“Hey.” Sean raises his hand. “We’re both standing right here, thanks.”

Holly blinks at him like he’s never made a joke before.

Maybe he hasn’t, or at least not where she could hear him. When Sean’s at work he’s constantly thinking about his research and the intricacies of whatever he’s teaching at the time, and how what he’s teaching fits into and influences his research, and he tends to get distracted from things like timekeeping. It’s entirely possible that he _hasn’t_ had a conversation with Holly about anything other than their shared subject.

“Anyway. Now you know.” Sean sticks his hand out like they’ve just been introduced. “Hi. I’m Sean. I’m a professor of Norse History and I play ice hockey.”

Holly shakes his hand, with that faintly bemused expression which immediately precedes one of his students losing any reservations around him and starting to manage his schedule instead of regarding him with any kind of awe.

Sean likes to keep that group down to a select few, but Holly’s been on her way into the inner circle for a while now.

 

“Elliott!” Reece isn’t the only one of their group who turns to see who’s calling for him, but he is the only one who’s being summoned to get on the Tribe’s bus and go home.

Their bench coach looks worried, like he thinks Reece might try to punch Sean even now the game’s over, but Reece is obviously ready to leave.

“Grant, good luck in Greenland.” He actually looks for a moment like he’s going to pull Chip into a half-hug, but goes for a handshake at the last minute. “The rest of you, I guess I’ll see you next time.” He turns to Holly. “It’s probably too late for you now, but good luck. Don’t let Hart f-” Reece pauses, obviously remembering Caitlyn, and corrects himself “-mess you around. He’s not all that.”

He takes a step back, towards his hovering coach. “Emma. Little Hart.” Sean’s the only one he hasn’t said goodbye to. Reece manages eye contact and a curt nod before he turns on his heel and strides away.

There’s a pause.

“Would anybody like to explain that to me?” Holly asks, after a moment.

“Elliott Reece did his masters on the same course as Chip.” Emma tells her. “Are you coming to dinner with us?”

That’s another one of the weird things about afternoon games, you can have a sensible meal with your friends and family afterwards.

“Yes, she is.” Wall-E announces. “Since we all drove in together.”

“Then I’ll explain it over dinner, since this lot can’t be trusted to remember to fill you in.” Emma’s moved over next to Holly and the group is already starting to head towards the exit. “But basically, Reece applied to do his PhD with Sean, Sean turned his application down, and Reece is still bitter about it.”

That’s the Cliff’s Notes version, anyway. The slightly longer version is that Reece had thought that his friendship with the group automatically ensured him a place on the PhD programme and had been very surprised when Chip got funding and he didn’t. He’s held Sean responsible for that decision ever since, blames Sean for destroying his academic career and, in his more melodramatic moments, for ruining his life. The truth is that Sean - and the other people on the panel - didn’t think that Reece was as good a candidate as Chip, and the way Reece handled the situation has done nothing to change his opinion.

“And whenever their teams play each other, Reece takes advantage of it being a physical sport to make his feelings clear.” T adds, glancing back over her shoulder to see if Sean’s following and in earshot. “The face cage was new, but I did like it when he tried to elbow you in the face and hurt himself instead!”

“The guys were trying to prank me with it.” Sean explains. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea, though. I did score three goals with it on, and it stops me from getting any more black eyes!”

Holly stops dead and turns to face him. “This is where the injuries are from!”

“Yes.”

“Do you…” she looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “Do you know that there’s a whole discussion board on one of the undergrad forums about how you’ve been getting hurt?”

“Really?” Emma catches his eye and grins, and then gets Holly walking in the right direction. “If it’s on one of those pages that you have to be a student to see, can you show me?”

“Sure. Most of them come from one guy but it’s been a big discussion topic…” Holly pauses again, and at this rate they’re never going to get to the restaurant which is literally just across the car park. “Is this a secret? The ice hockey thing?”

“No.” Sean shrugs. “I haven’t mentioned it to the students at work, but it’s not a secret.”

“So I can tell some people?” Holly’s finally letting Emma guide her towards the doors and it looks like they might get to eat this side of midnight. “It’s a shame that Toby’s wrong about somebody running a book on this, we could clean up…”

Sean decides that he doesn’t need to know what that last part is about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody's interested in the trivia, the Spitfires and the Tribe play in the league below all of the other Back Up There teams. The Spitfires aren't connected to any of the other teams, and the Tribe are affiliated to the Saxons.


	4. Michaelmas semester (2019)

“-or you can call in and see us in the office, which is 413 on the 4th floor of the Wilson building. Office hours are on the course webpage.”

Jules adds  _ office hours 413 Wilson  _ to the notes in the margin of her syllabus. Dr Hart seems like a cool guy, he talks about his subjects with an infectious level of enthusiasm, but Jules has a feeling it won’t hurt to talk to the postgraduate students sometimes if he’s going to be that prone to going off on tangents.

The class is obviously over, as people are gathering their things and leaving their seats. Jules stuffs her things into her backpack and joins the little group at the front of the room, waiting to talk to the students. Dr Hart seems to have vanished after he handed over to them.

The other kids used to tease her at school for being a teacher’s pet, but Jules likes to get off on the right foot.

“Hey.” The postgraduate student who’d been talking about office hours smiles at her and Jules tries not to notice that she’s cute. “What can I help with?”

“I just wanted…” Jules is not going to make a fool of herself. “I just wanted to double check the office number with you, I don’t think I got it?”

“It’s 413.”

“And sorry, I don’t think I got your name right. I think Dr Hart might have called you something different each time?”

She laughs. “Yeah, sorry about that, he’s working on nicknames.” That doesn’t get the explanation it needs. “Anyway, I’m Holly.”

“Cool. Um. I’m Jules.”

“Nice to meet you.” Holly smiles, and then her attention goes past Jules to a jacket that’s draped over the tables on the front row where nobody sat. “Honestly, he can’t go anywhere without...” She steps around Jules to scoop up the jacket, which Jules suspects belongs to Dr Hart, and a number of bits of paper flutter to the ground.

“That’s where they went!” Holly starts gathering them up, and Jules jumps in to help before anybody else can. She takes a quick glance, to check if this is something that might be useful, and realises that she’s holding a handful of flyers for a sports event.

“Ice hockey?”

“Yup.” Holly grins. “We go most weekends, we’re trying to get more people to come along. Student rates are really cheap.”

Jules looks down at the flyer in her hands, then up at Holly. “Maybe I’ll give it a go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to docbeeski for the beta read, and to silverceri for the sensitivity check


End file.
